


Master Wacker

by bryboiblue



Category: Bizaardvark (TV), ethan wacker - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Choking, Face Slapping, M/M, Non-Consensual, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:01:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25913278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bryboiblue/pseuds/bryboiblue
Summary: A hotel worker encounters Ethan Wacker during the pandemic and gets sucked into something he'd never imagined
Relationships: Ethan/Original Male Character(s)
Kudos: 9





	Master Wacker

I'd been working for a very prestigious resort hotel in Honolulu when the Corona Virus lock down hit Hawaii earlier this year.

Most of our business dried up and a lot of my friends got laid off, but I was lucky enough to keep my job servicing the rooms that were still getting used.

It had become hotel lore that there was a room getting used by a bunch of hot, buff, local teenagers as an impromptu gym, since all of the official ones in the islands were shutdown.

As luck would have it, I got sent to that room one afternoon to deliver room service: a plate of water, nuts, cheese and some fruit smoothies.

I was curious and nervous as I knocked on the door of the suite, not knowing what to expect and hoping that anybody who could afford such a place would at least give a decent tip.

As I knocked, the door opened, almost as of its own volition ... I hadn't noticed that it was already cracked open rather than latched the way almost every room is almost always is.

As the door swung open, I called out. "Room service."

A pleasant young-sounding voice responded, telling me to leave the tray on the coffee table in the middle of the room, so I walked in to do so, keeping my eyes down, as a proper employee at such an expensive hotel is taught to do, to ensure that we don't offend our wealthy clientèle or see things we aren't supposed to.

As I set the tray down on the table, I heard the door close rather hard behind me. I panicked a bit, thinking that I'd screwed up and left the door to close on its own rather than being as quiet as a mouse, as I had been taught.

I glance back in a panic, and, instead of seeing just the door, there, standing between me and thee entrance, and exit was a man-boy clad only in a jockstrap, arms crossed across a chest that could only be the result of hours lifting weights for years. This god had pecs that could almost be called breasts, they were so clearly outlined. His face had a smirk on it, and for just a second I was stunned, and then I realized this was the guy I'd watched and lusted after for years on Bizaardvark, Ethan Wacker himself.

My jaw must have dropped, opening my mouth as I tried to catch my breath.

"Excuse me, sir, is this OK?" I asked ... trying to remember my training on how to deal with celebrities, who had often frequented our resort. I could deal with a Tom Cruise or Lady Gaga, but ... this Adonis of a teenager, with bulging muscles I could only dream of, took everything within me to be able to mutter those few meager words.

His laugh in response was both musical and threatening in a way I would only later come to understand.

"Room service, yeah?" He asked, with an assertive sneer.

"Yes, sir!" I answered, proudly, happy to be able to help someone I genuinely liked rather than most of our rich, pampered, demanding guests. Little did I know what would happen next.

"Well, boy, this is my room, and I want service," Ethan demanded.  
+  
"Yes, sir, what can I do for you?" I responded, reflexively. The guest is king (or queen) we had drilled into our heads from the day were were hired.

Ethan looked me up and down for what seemed like forever, but was probably at most 30 seconds. 

"Are you 21?" he asked.

"Yes, sir, I'm 22," I replied, kinda proudly.

"Great," he said. "Go find me a six-pack of Guinness, some Bailey's and a fifth of Jameson."

"Sir, I'm working at the moment," I said, nervously.

"Yes, and your job is room service and this room needs to be serviced the way I say," Ethan said, haughtily.

I considered asking my manager if it was OK to do this .. but then I knew the answer already ... while not a minor, Ethan wasn't 21 and so we couldn't supply him with his wishes. But there was no way I was going to let this god down.

"Yes, Sir," I'll be back as soon as I can.

I went downstairs to the manager's office and muttered something about a VIP needing something that we didn't have in stock and got permission to go and get said supplies.

Fortunately, liquor stores were deemed essential businesses during our lock down and it didn't take me long to procure Ethan's requests and return to his suite.

Once again I knocked on his door and was allowed in with the requested alcohol.

"Nice," he said, seemingly very pleased.

"Put the things in the kitchen and make me an Irish Carbomb," Ethan demanded.

I'm not a bartender or mixologist, but being of Irish descent, I knew what he wanted: a mug of Guinness and then a shot glass half-filled with Jameson's Irish Whiskey and half-filled with Bailey's Irish cream. Then you drop the shot into the mug of Guinness and consume it as quickly as possible. 

I served Ethan his drink and waited to see if he needed anything else.

Ethan laid back on the couch in the middle of the main room, flicked on the TV and took a deep drought. 

"Yo, room service," he said, demandingly. "Strip to your undies."

I was taken aback. I'm skinny, and while have some moderate color by Caucasian standards, am almost vampire-pale by Hawaiian standards. Plus, I was wearing a jock strap, which is hardly what I want to be seen in in public.

But Ethan was the customer, I was the customer service employee and it, while embarrassing, seemed like something I could do, especially if it increased my tip, though I didn't really understand what was going on.

After shucking my clothes and trying to inobtrustively hide them at the side of the couch, Ethan once again looked me up and down, now seeing almost all of me.

"I don't know anyone as physically pathetic as you on this island," he sneered. "What do you think you are?"

I started to stammer, and he cut me off.

"You are clearly a faggot. A useless, pathetic little faggot," he said. 

"Good thing, is that your kind has value for real men," he said. "Real men like me."

I blushed deeply, not sure how to respond. Nobody had ever talked to me that way.

He grabbed a controller for a PS4 he must have brought himself and started loading a game.

"I need a footstool," he said.

I looked around, knowing that we don't usually have those, but hoping to improvise to make him happy.

"What the fuck are you waiting for," he growled. "Get on your hands and knees and give my feet somewhere to rest."

I was taken aback at the debasing command and hesitated. This was totally outside of work protocols.

"If you want to keep your job, you stupid bitch, you better, be under my feet in five seconds," he said, and started counting down. "5, 4, 3 ..."

As a college student with no other source of income and no college to go to at the moment, I complied, getting on my hands and knees and positioning myself in front of Ethan so that he could use my back to elevate his legs and feet.

About half an hour into his gaming, Ethan finished his drink and I got suddenly got a quick kick to my gut.

"I need another drink," he demanded.

I started to get up, and said, "Yes, sir," as enthusiastically as I could muster given the humiliating situation.

That was met with a hard slap across the face as I was rising.

"That's Master, to you, you stupid little bitch," he commanded. "In fact, Master Wacker. Master Wacker every time you open your mouth you stupid useless whore."

I had no idea what to say or how to react, I had no training for this, and yet .. this was fucking ETHAN WACKER ... and well, I ... kinda liked the attention, and if I got to be in this idol's presence even one moment longer, I'd do whatever he said.

"Yes, Master Wacker," I said eagerly. Rushing to get him his second Irish Car bomb of the afternoon.

I delivered it as quickly and carefully as possible.

"Stool," was all he said as I handed him his drink, and I returned to my hands and knees and placed myself under his legs.

He continued to play his game for another hour or so .. some first-person shooter that I didn't recognize, until he got frustrated and threw the controller aside.

He switched the input to some straight porn and started stroking himself inside his shorts.

Eventually he demanded. "Bitch, service me, and pulled his 7-inch cock out and presented it proudly

Not sure, what he meant ... ok sure, I did, but not wanting to make a mistake, I looked at him with puppy-dog eyes and asked, "Yes, Master Wacker?"

He stared at me, then his rock-hard cock, and repeated the command, "Service me!"

His intention completely clear, I lifted up, and said, "Yes, Master Wacker" and began to devour his cock. First licking and sucking the head, then taking it deeper and deeper into my mouth and throat as my hands played with his huge, loose balls.

He laid back for a time, arms behind his head, his lightly-haired pits displayed as I attempted to give his big cock all of the attention I could, managing to take his massive member all the way down my practiced throat a few times before, he suddenly held my head against his pubes, cock buried in my throat until I started to gag, suddenly producing copious amounts of saliva that started dripping down his cock and balls and my chin and puddling on the floor.

After holding me like that for what seemed like an eternity, he pulled half-way out, allowing me to get some air, and then rammed himself back into my throat, and started fucking it with abandon. I could barely get enough air on the backstroked to stay conscious as he ruthlessly assaulted my mouth and throat.

This lasted for a good four or five minutes, in which he held me by my hair and ears and could not be stopped, even if I wanted to -- which I didn't..

He was leaking copious amounts of sweet precum that coated my mouth and throat, all the while making his thrusts faster and deeper as I gagged for air.

His breathing got shallower and faster, and I could hear him moaning, and just as I thought maybe he might cum, he pulled out completely and simultaneously kicked me in my nuts.

"Not bad, bitch," he said in a husky, sex-crazed voice.

He leaned back on the couch and pointed his hard, spit-soaked cock at the sky.

"Ride me," he commanded.

At his point, despite the humiliation, there was nothing I wanted more. I used my spit and a couple fingers to try and prepare myself before I lowered my hole onto his cock. It wasn't enough. The pain of Master Wacker's huge cock entering me was overwhelming, but I powered through, and turned painful whines into compliments.

"You are so big, Master Wacker," I panted and complimented as I tried to take his entire cock into me.

I started to ride him slowly and was rewarded with a firm smack across my face.

"Get to work faggot," he growled.

I started to ride him harder, getting used to his length and width and was soon as lost as he in the feeling of such a big dick going in and out of me. He wasn't taking any care to hit my spot, and why should he? He was the master, I was his bitch. But I tried to angle my body so that Master Wacker's cock was hitting my spot as I rode him.

Occasionally I'd get it right and my moans would go from perfunctory to those of pure pleasure.

As it got more intense and we both started approaching orgasm, I started to stroke my own cock, until Master Wacker noticed.

He immediately slapped my hand away and then slapped me hard across the face.

"Fucking bitch better learn her place," he sneered, amid pants

Without pulling out, he flipped our positions so he was fucking me missionary and put both his hands around my neck, pushing down with them while he hammered my ass. At first, I enjoyed it, and then 30 seconds later, I was struggling for air and tried to call out, finding I couldn't.

His hands stayed locked around my throat until I passed out.

I woke up later ... I'm not sure how much, yet, in a supply closet, naked, my ass gaping and leaking cum, with a terrible headache and no idea how to proceed without losing my job, dignity or both. 


End file.
